#how warm

“  relax.  ”     threats muttered under scrunched up nose part ruby lips.     she bites into them smothering a grin.     her apartment’s covered in ever-blossoming flowers;     it smells of honey,   spring and smoke.     for the past couple of hours,   careful fingers have been catching longer threads of silky hair,   braiding them loosely,   and weaving in cornflowers.     a single petal lands right on the tip of his nose. 

the vinyl player fills up her home with strumming guitar and quiet voices.     there're remnants of promised proper breakfast and beer in the fridge,   wine and whiskey on the top shelves in her kitchen.     and,   more important,   his best friend in the whole wide world lives here.     what complaints could he possibly have?     “  don’t be a baby.     blue’s gonna bring out your eyes.     you’ll be the prettiest boy in the village.  ”

What shape would they be?

what color?

Would they be pristine and pure, or dark and battered, or even tainted with sin?